Lasts...
Fad, Fade, Fading
scrawled in old symbolic renderings
the sand snatched every straight line and curve
all manor of paper was lost
everything was now ether air, electrical
contrasts in colors, bold and brilliant
or tiny legaleze texts that could be magnified
but she still knew how to actually form a word
with her hand, thought gnarled and athritic
and with a stick, some ocean scrap of treasure
coughed up and bleached bone dry...
she looked out across the salted sea,
thinking, as the gulls hung lullabies in the air...
that this was probably the last time they’d let her out
on her own - age does that, those last years scare
even the healthiest survivors - the ones who aren’t
yet addle brained to the point of reliving their last years
in what was probably the best days of their lives...
she actually, unknowingly wrote...the last word.
©JP/davh
Your poet's voice is changing. From what to what I can't tell you, but I have been reading your poetry for two years, now, so I can tell you it is :-).
ReplyDeleteLove this image 'the sand snatched every straight line and curve'.